


41. Dinner at the Club

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [41]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 06:26:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4554213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warnings: none</p>
    </blockquote>





	41. Dinner at the Club

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: none

A hostess leads them through the front room to the back, past the more formal dining section to the low tables with padded cushions and pillows against walls and ledges. The table she's chosen, with its view on the rest of the room, meets Antony's approval and she waits for them to be seated before handing out menus. "Your server will be with you shortly," she says with a small nod of her head before she leaves them alone, making her way back to the front desk.

Antony settles behind the table, legs stretched straight out under it, adjusting the pillows behind his back until he's comfortable before gesturing for Stephen to join him.

Stephen waits until the server retreats, and then without even a glance at his Sir he kicks off his shoes, tugs off his tee, and shucks his way out of his shorts, setting all to one side before drops down to crawl his way onto, into, his lover's lap. Only then does he relax, a contented sigh, a soft exhale of _rightness_.

Wrapping his arms around his boy, Antony hugs him tight, mouth and nose pressed against his skin, inhaling deeply. "I missed this," he murmurs. "Touching you." Even if it was only for a few hours, the time they spend apart makes every second together even more precious.

"I thought," Stephen starts, his eyes sliding shut, "that it was me, being needy, residual head space..." he trails off, to turn his head and rub his face against his lover's shirt. "Clingy, stupid..." he adds softly.

"It might be some of any of that," Antony says, "except for the stupid. Nothing about how you feel is _ever_ stupid. And I wanted to hold your hand so fucking badly down on the boardwalk..." he blows out a breath, shaking his head. "So if you're being needy or clingy, so am I."

That confession has Stephen opening his eyes, and tilting his head back to look up at his lover and Sir. "It's residual headspace isn't it? From all of last night, this morning's sex...that conversation, we've been up and down and twisted around." And there's relief there, for Stephen at least, that this isn't him being...pathetic. Seeking out his lover's hand Stephen holds it up, to study the ring he'd given Antony last night.

Antony nods and smiles, watching Stephen look at the ring. "I love it," he says softly. "This and the tags? Having you with me even when we're apart? You chose really well with both."

"I know you might not be able to wear the ring while you're away...and that's fine, but always wear something yeah? Keep me close. I'd like to think it will keep you safe, a talisman." Letting go of Antony's hand Stephen twists a little. "Take off your tee," he demands softly, because he wants to be able to kiss and nuzzle into the hair dusted skin of his lover's chest and belly.

Antony hesitates for a second but then pulls his t-shirt over his head and drops it to the side. When they're fucking in public, he could care less, but sitting naked or even half in a place like this still tweaks whatever bit of modesty he might possess.

It's only because he's intimate with Antony that Stephen sees that momentary discomfort, he notes it, but doesn't comment, after all it's done and it's what he wanted. Skin, warm, male scented skin to caress and kiss.

"Hmmm," Stephen hums out his appreciation. "Look, look what you do to me..." he murmurs as he presses a soft kiss to the space between Antony's pectoral muscle. He can feel his body lighting up, his cock twitching as the blood thickens it.

 _Fuck._ Antony's head goes back against the wall, his eyes closed, one hand sliding between Stephen's thighs, slowly making its way upwards. "I can feel it," he murmurs, fingers teasing over the growing flesh, feeling it respond to his touch, thicken further, faster.

A soft groan of pleasure, of gratitude for the touch, Stephen pushes up, turns his mouth to one nipple, flicks his tongue over the nub. He can't seem to help himself, he knows they came here to eat, otherwise they'd taken a room to fuck in before ordering up, but he just...he just can't help himself, and Stephen can't find it in himself to care.

It feels so good. Antony groans, sliding his free hand into Stephen's hair, fingers wrapping around his boy's cock, stroking gently, reminding himself that _fucking_ Stephen is not an option. Not tonight. Not after this morning.

Clearly Antony is not about to call a stop, and Stephen takes Antony’s groan as encouragement. Sucking up the nipple in his mouth Stephen employs teeth, a hint at first, swiftly followed by a tender flicker of his tongue. His hips meanwhile start to move, a slow push up into Antony's caress, seeking more.

Cursing softly under his breath, Antony arches, pressing chest against face, urging Stephen on, his hand growing more demanding, the slick of wet at the tip used to speed his strokes.

As his arousal grows, so does the need in Stephen to _hurt_ to give his lover a taste of the exquisite pleasure of pain that he so often gifted with. Growling he bites harder, his one hand - the one not trapped against Antony - comes up to flick at the other nipple, before sliding up, seeking out Antony's mouth. His cock spews a spurt of precum, a warning of how close he is.

Erection straining at the zipper on his jeans, Antony hisses with pleasure, sucking those fingers into his mouth, teeth dragging over skin. He pulls back only to say, "whenever you can, boy," before he's sucking and licking and biting at them again, his hand roughly working Stephen's cock now, demanding his orgasm from him.

It takes very little time after that for Stephen to reach his orgasm, his hips stutter and he cries out, the sound muffled by the skin and flesh in his mouth, hot and wet against Antony's body. In that moment he loses himself in his lover's body, the smell, taste and feel of him.

"Good boy," Antony murmurs around the fingers still in his mouth. _So fucking good for me..._ His own cock throbbing violently, trapped behind denim, his arousal tamped down, for now, through sheer willpower. He lets Stephen's fingers slip free and kisses the top of his head. "My good boy."

For a moment - longer - Stephen is utterly boneless, his chest heaving as he regains his breath and his centre. A deep inhale and he opens his eyes, lifting his head from Antony's chest. He takes Antony's hand, circling his wrist with his own trembling fingers and brings it to his mouth, sucking clean his lover's skin, licking off each smear of semen and humming his pleasure as he does so.

The walk was good, the fresh air welcome, but this, _this_ was what they needed. The moment Stephen's done, Antony wraps his arms around his boy again and hugs him in tight, murmuring soft words of praise. Their drinks have already come, in the time they were oblivious to everything else, set quietly on the table in front of them and Antony smiles at that, amused by the thought that what they just did barely turns heads. "You ready to look at the menu?" he asks. "Or do you want me to order for you?"

"Order for me, something light...fish...seafood," Stephen murmurs, he's pushed up some more, his head nestled on Antony's shoulder now, his body circled by his lover's arms. "Hmm, I feel so good," he adds softly, a lazy smile of satisfaction curls his mouth.

"Good, I'm glad to hear it," Antony murmurs, smiling, keeping one arm wrapped tight around Stephen as he takes a quick look at the menu. "My boy'll have the salmon and I'll have the sea bass," he tells the server as they step up quietly, noting he's ready. "And nothing to start. We're saving room for dessert," he adds with another smile.

"Dessert? After last night's brownies, and the rubbish I ate today?" Stephen tilts his head back, gifting his Sir a languid smile. "Are you trying to fatten my ass up? Or are you totally getting off on the knowledge I shall have to work harder and longer in the gym hmmm?" he quirks an accusatory brow. He finishes his questioning with a wriggle - done mostly to get more comfortable, his ass is of course still rather uncomfortable, but it has the added bonus of rubbing his flank against the hard, impressive ridge of Antony's dick.

Antony laughs then hisses in a soft breath. "Hey. I'm trying to keep in mind how sore you must be," he threatens playfully then smiles and kisses Stephen. "And I guess I just assume you can eat whatever you want with how hard you work out. Not so?"

"To a point...I've just learnt to eat really, really healthily while you're away, so I can relax and indulge when you're home," Stephen licks Antony's kiss from his bottom lip and starts to draw a circle in the centre of his lover's chest with his forefinger. "I'm very fucking sore...but I have a mouth..." he points out, glances up with a flirty smile. "And hands...thighs..."

Christ. Antony stares at Stephen's lips for a moment, those perfect fucking lips and then nods, knowing there's no way he's going to make it til after dinner, not with Stephen on his lap like this. "Give me your mouth."

Stephen rolls out of Antony's lap, up onto all fours and then onto his heels. He reaches for Antony's waist band, fingers sure and swift as they pop the button and work on the zipper. Once it's open he pauses, gaze flicking between where the ample flesh is springing free with no help - and his lover's face. "You forgot to say please," he murmurs, playful and challenging all at once.

"And I'm not going to," Antony says, smiling, eyes locked with Stephen's. "Not here. Give me your mouth, _boy_."

Oh fuck but does he want to push, but something in Stephen tells him to do so, after the up and down day they've had, would be counter productive to say the least. Even so, he lets Antony see just a hint of resistance, of his internal struggle before he opens his mouth and dips his head, tongue out ready. A quick tug of fabric and Antony's cock springs free in all its obscene glory.

Sliding his hand into Stephen's hair, Antony keeps his eyes open this time, groaning softly at that first touch of tongue.

Curling his fingers around the thick, fat base of his Sir's dick, Stephen sucks in the first four or so inches, working that silky firm flesh with his tongue, then his teeth. Pulling back to flick over the weeping slit before swallowing down again, growling out his love of this act, his love of this particular cock.

"Oh, fuck," Antony blurts out, careful to keep his voice down, his hand tightening in Stephen's hair before his fingertips drop down to trail over the chain at the back of his neck. It's not his slave collar, that's at home, but it bears his number on it, engraved on the back of the ID plate. Proof of Antony's ownership. "Mine," he murmurs, rocking his hips upward, his hand keeping Stephen where he is.

 _Yes...yours, only yours, always yours..._ Stephen's mind starts that shut down, as delayed as it is this time, he can't stop himself. Subspace closes in on him, allowing a pliancy in his body one that his Sir can use to direct and manhandle him. Which he does, to wicked effect, his hips pushing up, that cock threatening to cut off his airway.

"That's it. Take it all, boy," Antony urges, pushing still deeper. "Every last inch."

That's just Sir's cock talking... because Stephen's never managed to take it _all_ for more than a moment or two before struggling, his vision going grey around the edges. Even so, he opens up more, takes more... maybe this time... Spit spills out from the corners of Stephen's mouth, dribbling over the root of his Sir's cock, his fingers press into the muscle high on each of his Sir's thighs.

"Good boy," Antony praises as Stephen's nose goes flat against his groin, his skin slick with spit. Impressed, his hand on the back of Stephen's neck, he keeps him there for a moment, watching for the first sign of struggle...

He can't breathe, he tries, but no air can get around the cock stuffed so far down his throat, normally Stephen would be struggling by now, if not fighting the urge to pull off, pull back, but this time... with that voice filtering through the fog... Stephen surrenders, total and absolute surrender. He shudders, his eyes roll and the tension in his fingers where they press bruisingly hard into his Sir's thighs loosens and he waits for the darkness to close in on him.

When the struggle doesn't come, when Stephen's fingers loosen, his body slackening, Antony counts off three seconds, four, five, and pulls back, shifting, making room for Stephen to breathe. Christ. He's seen Stephen go under, felt him surrender, but this? He'll have to be careful for both of them.

When it comes, the release, Stephen sucks in a noisy, panicky breath, he splutters, blinks and his throat works reflexively as he tries to swallow the spit and precum clogging up his throat. It's almost as if his head had been held underwater and the ability to sudden gain air is a shock.

"Shh, it's okay," Antony assures him, fingers threading through his hair. "I've got you," he continues, hips rocking just a little, a reminder to his boy of his needs.

When his Sir's cock bumps, wet and messy against his lips, Stephen opens his mouth again, taking it in once more. Even though his breath is still stuttered he starts sucking, a mindless suckling as he tries to focus on his task, tries to centre himself so he can finish what he started.

"That's it," Antony murmurs, groaning as his arousal quickly builds, cresting higher and higher. "Good boy."

Soon enough Stephen's sucking becomes more purposeful and less automatic, precum spills over his tongue, a foretaste of his reward, Sir's cock swells a fraction more, a sure sign his orgasm is right there, so close.

It only takes a few more thrusts, a few more drops, the sight and feel of his cock pushing deeper shoving him hard over the edge, before Antony comes, teeth gritted against shouting. Christ. His hand tightens on Stephen's hair for a moment, but he doesn't hold him down, doesn't keep him there, not after earlier.

His Sir is quieter than usual, and Stephen assumes, somewhere deep in his brain it's that weird thing Antony has about public sex...or something... He busies himself swallowing and then sucking clean the thick shaft before pulling back and tilting his face up to his Sir, he loves how Antony looks just after he's cum, flushed, satiated, complete. Lifting a hand he swipes the back of it over his mouth, wiping away the spit and cum that smears his chin.

"Mm. God, I needed that," Antony murmurs, still heavy-lidded with pleasure, smiling at Stephen. He tucks himself back into his jeans, zipping up again. Crooks a finger at Stephen, beckoning him in for a kiss.

Stephen doesn't hesitate, and why would he want to? He presses in, turning to drop down on his butt, before tilting back his head, and curving one hand around the back of his Sir's neck. He opens his mouth, savours that split second before their lips meet and then sighs as Sir's tongue slides into his mouth, possessive, assertive, claiming.

Antony pours everything he feels for Stephen into that one kiss. He may not be 100% comfortable with everything else here but he's 100% comfortable in showing everyone what he feels for this man. His lover. His boy. _Mine._

When Stephen pulls back he's dizzy, brought about by a combination of head space, the breath play and _that_ kiss. He blinks slowly, his gaze fixed on his Sir's clear blue eyes. "I love you," he murmurs, his voice rough from the throat fucking.

"I love you too," Antony says with a smile, stroking Stephen's cheek. "How's your throat?"

A small frown puckers up Stephen's forehead before smoothing out, he lifts one shoulder in a small shrug. "S'okay." Because he really couldn't care about any physical discomfort he's got going on, not when he's feeling like this, warm, loved and very, very cherished.

Watching Stephen for a moment longer, Antony decides not to press the issue. They can talk about what happened -- and the earlier hint of resistance -- later. Much later. "When we finish here," he says softly, pulling his boy into his arms, their server given a nod as she delivers their meals to the table, "I'd like to head home. We can plan for some trips or cuddle in front of the TV but I'd rather sleep there our first night living together."

"Of course," Stephen nods, he'd not assumed anything different. He'd take his new bed over any at the club, any day. What with the view...and the fact it's now _home_.

///

Locking the door behind them, Antony turns and smiles, kissing the side of Stephen's throat as he wraps his arms around him. "No carrying you over the threshold this time," he says with a smile, eyes crinkling at their corners. He loves the club, the mansion, the various other Citadel venues, but this is _his_ place, _his_ refuge, and with the addition of _his_ boy, there's now nowhere else on Earth he'd rather be.

"Yeah, we'd best not risk you hurting your back with twice in one day hmm?" Stephen teases as he tilts his head over to allow Antony just a little more room to do _that_ with his mouth.

Antony chuckles, nipping softly at the exposed skin, right above Stephen's collar. "Mm. I can't get enough of you," he murmurs, hands sliding downward, cupping Stephen's ass through his shorts.

"And you can stop right there Mr," Stephen steps back, pushing Antony's away, he shakes his head. "You are not getting near my ass, not tonight, and probably tomorrow either... serves you right for being a monstrous brute this morning," he does grin though as he backs up into the apartment. "Bad man, bad, bad man."

Antony laughs. "You'd better go get changed then," he says, following Stephen. "Wrap a blanket around you so I can't get close," he teases, even though he has no intention of fucking Stephen for the next day or two.

Getting 'changed' essentially means tossing his clothes in the laundry bin and pulling on some flannel pjs. Oh, and that small details of swapping out his 'outside' collar for his slave one. It's a new ritual, and one Stephen is sure won't be getting old any time soon. He sets his silver collar in its box and closes the lid. He glances over to their bed before heading back out to where he hopes his Sir and lover is making a round of coffee.

"That should be ready in a minute," Antony says, setting the pot to brew, mugs and everything else already set out. He glances at his watch. "Want to watch some TV or just talk and we'll work on travel plans tomorrow?"

"Talk? Or make out some more? Because, the making out some more...might lead to Other Things," Stephen quirks a brow and leans against the counter, eyeing the breakfast bar stool with a hint of reproachfulness. "Why do we need to talk?"

Antony shrugs. "I didn't say we needed to. I thought you might want to, but we can just watch TV if we've already talked enough today."

"No, some mindless TV would be cool, my head's going to take a couple of days to settle back to normal as it is," he admits, noting with amusement that Antony has set out his favourite mug for his coffee.

"Okay," Antony smiles and touches Stephen's hip as he moves by him. "I'm going to change and I'll meet you in the guestroom. You can choose the show," he says, heading for their bedroom.

When Antony joins him Stephen's got a coffee mug on each bedside table, and he's sprawled in a pillow pile as he flips through some channels. He glances over at his lover and smiles. "Can we get a TV in the living room?" he asks, because whilst Antony doesn't really do much TV, Stephen likes movies.

Antony plumps a pillow or two behind him and presses a kiss to Stephen's flannel-covered shoulder. "Sure. A big one?" he asks, deciding he can move the painting on the wall across from the couch to storage for now.

"Big-ish," Stephen nods. "Not movie screen size, but big enough." He casts Antony a glance as he settles on a show about snakes. "I bet you've seen a few of these bastards up close and personal huh?" he asks.

"Yeah, a few," Antony confesses, nodding. "The biggest one I ever saw was in the Amazon, in Peru - a green anaconda."

"Those things are fucking huge, aren't they? I saw one at the zoo once, don't they eat cows or something?" He's discovered that he can kind of talk around the edges of Antony's work without getting onto ground that makes them both uncomfortable. Like this...finding things out, without knowing _details_.

Antony nods again. "This one was about twenty feet long, probably about a hundred and fifty pounds. Luckily for us, it was on land and slow as hell," he says, remembering it vividly. "We took one look and just backed the fuck up. Took a completely different route."

"Yeah, they don't freak me out like a phobia, but I'd rather not come face to face with one unexpectedly," Stephen shuffles over to lean more into his lover. "So what's the coolest animal you've seen up close? In their natural habitat?"

"Coolest?" Antony thinks on that as he wraps his arm around Stephen. "When I was in Honduras, we swam with the whale sharks. That was pretty amazing. Oh, and manta rays in Thailand." He grins. "I guess I'm partial to sea creatures."

"Huh, well there, that's something new I learned about you," Stephen tilts his head a little to press a kiss to the underside of Antony's jaw. He pauses a moment, thoughts not on the TV or the show churning away on it. "Is it difficult?" he asks reaching up to finger the dog tags that nestle in Antony's chest hair. "Sharing yourself with me?"

"Sometimes," Antony admits.

He doesn't know whether to leave it there, what with the brevity of Antony's answer, Stephen glances up to try and gauge his lover's reaction. He wonders for a moment if the answer would be the same if the question had been, 'Is it difficult to keep things from me?' and decides he doesn't want to know. Instead he offers a quiet, "Thank you." _Thank you for trying...thank you for sharing what you do..._

"It's habit," Antony says softly, holding Stephen close, feeling the need to explain. "Years of not sharing or not being fully honest anyway." He smiles down at Stephen. "But I want to share with you. What I can."

"It's a lot of trust I put in you," Stephen murmurs, rubbing his cheek against that same chest hair he's just been petting. "Trust that the things you keep from me are the right things to keep from me." He wonders where this is coming from, he'd never have spoken to Cam like this, or any of his other Sirs, but then he was never loved like this, he was never more than a boy.

"I know it is," Antony says, wondering if Stephen has any idea how much he values that trust, "and if you want me to tell you more, I will. You can ask me anything directly. I won't ever lie to you."

"I think I know that, I think that's why I can accept it," Stephen lifts his head, once more looking for something in his lover's face. "Tell me as much as you need, but not so much it changes how I look at you." Stephen's not stupid - he's aware that too much knowledge might be more than he can deal with. He's not named it, not consciously acknowledged that there is a dark side to Antony that goes beyond the bedroom sadist he's seen.

"That can be a pretty fine line sometimes," Antony points out, thinking of all the things he could say - share - that would have Stephen running from him.

"I know, but..I trust you," Stephen holds Antony's gaze and lets him see that, really see it. "And I trust that the way I feel about you means that I'd work through any discomfort I might feel, because whatever there is that I don't know...I love the parts I do know."

The small knot of cold fear in Antony's chest suddenly eases and he nods, overcome with emotion. "I love you so much."

And that that reaction right there, tells Stephen more than he wanted to know. Because it tells him that Antony is scared - scared of what Stephen will think and feel about him if he knew it all...and if Antony is fearful of that... Pushing up Stephen resorts to physical comfort to shut his thoughts down, he presses a soft kiss to Antony's mouth, seeking reassurance in the one place where they are utterly open with each other.

Cupping the back of Stephen's neck, Antony deepens the kiss, but not enough to lead further. He knows Stephen needs a break, that they both need some down time, some time just wrapped around each other. Still. "Speaking of sharing," he says softly, drawing back with a smile. "When I told you to give me your mouth earlier, at the restaurant, you hesitated..." Resisted is more like it but he doesn't want to put Stephen on the defensive.

Stephen's forehead puckers up as he thinks back. "Hesitated?" Sometimes he can't always recall what he said or did directly preceding or during a scene, but then it comes to him, and his frown smooths out. "Oh..." he nods his fingers petting over Antony's chest again. "Yeah, sometimes I still want to be pushed down, sometimes I want to be disobedient just to see what will happen, sometimes I do it because I need to prove to myself I can still say 'no'."

"And when I told you I wasn't going to say please? And ordered you to give me your mouth? Should I have done something more?"

"No, not then, because today wasn't the day to push it, otherwise I would have put you in a position to push me," Stephen admits. "But I will, I will be willfully disobedient... the urge is there sometimes, and sometimes I don't want to fight it, and it's not about you, or you not being dominant enough for me, it's about my submission and how I relate to it."

"But when you are, do you want to be put down or left alone?" Antony asks. Curious.

"I think that's for you to judge, dependent on when, where and how we, and I, am in the run up to that. I had enough about me today to not push it, we'd been on such an up and down day as it was..." Stephen blows out a soft breath. "Sometimes I want to be put down, hard... really hard... and then there's that continual niggling voice that wants to know where I'd draw a line with you, how far I'd go for you..."

Antony nods. He gets it. "There's probably going to be a point though where we're not on the same wavelength, when you want to be put down hard and I'm just not in the mood or it might actually piss me off. If that happens, I'm either going to safeword on you or walk away, but I won't stay away. If we fight, if I can't handle talking to you and I need my space for a bit, I don't want you thinking we're in trouble. My dad always told me not to go to bed mad and I'm going to do my best to follow that."

"If you ever feel like that and there's been any D/s in the run up...I need to hear a safe word Tony, not want, I _need_ to hear one, because my head space will understand that, but if you just walk away... that will be triggering for me..." Stephen pushes up on one hand. "If it's us arguing as a couple... then I'll understand that need to walk away, and I'll give you space."

"Okay. If there's been any D/s beforehand, I'll safeword. I won't ever just walk away," Antony promises, grateful they're having this talk, that they're exploring what works for them and what they might have to deal with down the road. "What about you? Anything else I need to know if we fight or cross wires or whatever?"

"Honestly? I don't know. It's been so long since I was with a partner, and I've changed so much. And if Cam was ever angry with me, I was never allowed to argue back... I just had to take it, or he'd just not talk to me." Stephen reaches for Antony's hand and turns it over to trace the lines in the palm, the callouses there. "So...I might shut down, because that's all I was allowed to do."

It always makes Antony sad to hear about how Stephen was with Cam. How he was _allowed_ to be. "That's fine, but just know, you /can/ argue with me. I'm not going to stop loving you if we fight over something. I'm not going to change my mind about wanting you - as my boy or my lover."

He sets aside Antony's hand and wriggles in, pressing himself against his lover as tight as he can. "He wasn't very good for me was he?" he asks softly.

"I don't think so," Antony answers honestly. "But it's like you've said, your experiences with him are part of who you are and I wouldn't change that."

"He trained me well," Stephen counters, still not quite able to stop himself from defending Cam, despite himself. "I'm a good submissive because of the work he put into me."

"No, you're not," Antony says firmly. "You're a good submissive because it's in you to be one. Yes, he may have trained you well but that's the technique, it's not the passion, it's not the desire. You would have been a good submissive with a kinder, less formal dominant as well."

"Are there things you want me to learn, things _you_ want to train me in?" Stephen redirects, not quite able to face Antony's words, his observations head on.

"I'd like to teach you how to box," Antony says with a grin, "so I have a regular sparring partner, but I don't think that's what you mean." He shrugs a little. "You took my fist, you're handling the level of humiliation I like well, I don't need a housekeeper or a servant, and certainly not in a boy who has his own life and career to handle already." He pauses, thinking. "I want to push you further, harder, find out where your boundaries are, where _mine_ are, but no, there's no one thing. At least not anything I can think of right now."

"Well you're an easy Sir to please then hmm?" Stephen arches a brow. "I'd've expected _something_ , something other than boxing anyway..."

Antony smiles. "I'll come up with something, now that you've mentioned it. It'll give me something to think about on this next job."

"I might rue this moment huh?" Stephen grins and yawns widely, unexpectedly. "Oh!"

Antony smiles at the yawn. "What?"

"That snuck up on me," Stephen admits, but now he's doing a mental inventory of his body...yeah he's pretty fucking wiped out. Achy in places he's not used to. But then it's less than a week since he got the all clear from his nasty dose of flu. "I think I should head for bed...early start tomorrow."

"I'll come with you," Antony says, reaching for the remote and turning off the TV. "Did you want to choose out a television for the living room or should I just go ahead and set things up?" He has a meeting with Marcus tomorrow but after that, his whole day's free until Stephen gets home.

"If you're free tomorrow, yeah go ahead, something all singing all dancing yeah? That my tablet can talk to?" Stephen shuffles off the bed, wincing a little, his body's seized up a little now he's sat still long enough, and he's not looking forward to his early morning warm up on set. "It'll keep you out of trouble while I'm at work," he teases.

"That's what you think," Antony teases back, taking Stephen's hand and pulling him gently towards their bedroom.

"Oh well at least _try_ and stay out of trouble dear," Stephen laughs. He yawns again, and makes his way to the bathroom, he takes the time to wash and pat dry his ass, brush his teeth, and when he reappears in the bedroom he's got his fingers curled around a tube of cream. "Do you think it's possible for you to smear this on my butt without misbehaving?" he quirks a quizzical brow at his lover.

Already naked and in bed, the covers draped loosely around his hips, Antony sets his book on the nightstand and grins at Stephen. "I'll certainly try," he says. Mostly teasing.

"You'll have to do better than try," Stephen huffs out, as he climbs up on the bed and drops down on his front. He's had a sore ass from being fucked before, but not like this... not from just a cock. "Downside to being a newly crowned Size Queen hmmm?" And that tickles him some... "Oliver Queen, Size Queen," he snorts in laughter.

Antony laughs too. "Hm. Slade, Diggle... makes sense to me," he says.

"Oh my fucking god, now you say it like that it _totally_ sounds like a porn set..." Stephen drops his head into his crossed forearms, shoulders shaking hard as he gives himself up to full on belly laughter.

Antony grins and squirts some cream onto his fingers, gently reaching between Stephen's cheeks to apply the ointment to his hole and the skin surrounding it. "That okay?"

Even now, even with his ass being so damned tender, just that touch, that _gentle_ touch has Stephen's laughter stuttering off into something entirely more breathy. His hips lift as if seeking more and he lets out a soft noise. "I think you missed a bit," and if he sounds throaty and a little aroused so what?

"Yeah? Where?" Antony rubs gently over both sides and all around. "Here? Or here?" His traitorous cock starting to fill already. Fingertips very gently penetrating his boy, making sure he gets all the small tears.

It hurts, but that's the fucking problem... Stephen's wired to get off on pain - especially pain _there_ , especially pain gifted to him by _this_ man. "I...um...do it...do it all again..." he grinds out, his dick uncomfortably thick beneath him, like he hasn't cum repeatedly already today.

Antony slicks his fingers with more cream and repeats the movements, circling Stephen's hole, penetrating it just barely. Careful not to do more damage. "You made me promise to behave myself," he points out.

Stephen whines at that, his hips undulating at the caress. "You're the Sir..." he pushes out through clenched teeth; and that could mean anything, it could mean 'since when did you do as you're told?' or it could mean 'safe word for me then'. Because fuck... this kind of gentle is rare enough and it's got Stephen's head spinning.

"Yes I am," Antony agrees, trying not to let the sadistic joy he takes in tormenting his boy show too clearly. "Could you come like this?" he asks, continuing with the circling, the rubbing, the slightest of penetrations. "Or would you need more?"

"Might," Stephen concedes, "If...if you talk to me..." he trails off with a groan. What he means of course is if Antony verbally humiliates him, because that's a kink that just keeps pushing him deeper each time they do it. Indeed it's crossed his mind in recent weeks to ask if they can try the 'hands free' orgasm thing with just Antony's nasty mouth.

"If I tell you what a dirty little slut you are?" Antony asks casually, fucking his fingertips in and out. "What a greedy pig when it comes to having your cunt fucked?'

"Hmmm, yeah... more..." Stephen groans, his body shuddering as pleasure sparks up his nerves, making his skin goose bump. His fingers close into handful of bedclothes, causing them to scrunch up beneath him.

"No, you say it," Antony demands, letting Stephen have a fraction more. "You tell me how badly you need it. Beg me to fuck your cunt."

Stephen whines in protest, because it means he has to make his brain work - at least on some level. "Please! Please Sir... this fuck toy... he needs you to fuck his hole, his cum dump of a hole... s'boy's only reason for being... to be bred by Sir...used...fucked and pissed on..."

Antony bites back a low groan. "Pissed on?" His smile turns wicked, twisting his fingers just a little. "That's what I'll do to you tomorrow night. Mark my property when you come home. Piss on you and come on your fucking face."

Those words have Stephen almost feverish in arousal. '...mark my property...' the words making his belly tighten and flip over. "Oh fuck...yes! Yes please... piss on your fuck toy... mark him... please..." His ass comes up some more, so his cock has room beneath him, the tip's so wet it's stuck to the duvet cover in a smudge of precum.

"You want that?" Antony works a third finger in, unable to resist giving Stephen that bit more. "You'd better come for me, pig. _Now_ ," he growls.

The third finger is what starts the inevitable - because it adds a new layer of pain to his abused ass, and then his Sir spits those words at him, _Pig_ and then the order to cum... Hips bucking Stephen's dick kicks up and dribbles out cum all over the bed clothes, his cries are muffled by the fabric and fist he's tried to stuff in his mouth.

"Good pig, that's it," Antony says, gentling his touches throughout the aftershocks until he finally eases his fingers free of Stephen's body. He takes a quick look to make sure Stephen's not bleeding anew then wipes his hand on the duvet cover since it's getting changed anyway.

Stephen slumps back onto the bed, turning his face so he can breathe, his eyes are closed and his breath is ragged and erratic. He's absolutely done in now, exhausted and shivery and wanting nothing more than to lie in his lover's arms and just sleep.

"Get in," Antony says softly, pressing a kiss to Stephen's shoulder. "Under the sheet and I'll grab the other duvet."

Stephen crawls under the covers, clumsy and disoriented, his breathing evening out with just an occasional little shuddery hiccup. He doesn't care that the duvet is messed, all he wants is Sir. Sir's body and heat, Sir's words in his ear to sooth him.

Antony dumps the soiled duvet in the hamper and grabs the spare, tossing it over the bed and joining Stephen beneath it. He wraps his arm around his boy and pulls him in close. "I'm so glad you're here," he murmurs.

Stephen presses close, arms snaking around Antony's torso, face pressed against his chest, where he rubs his cheek against the soft fur there. If he wasn't drifting around in the haze of head space he'd be savouring the fact this is the first night of him actually living _here_ with his lover, his Sir.

"You okay?" Antony asks, tugging Stephen in tighter. His boy has work in the morning and the last thing he wants to do is leave him too far under.

"Hmm, yessir..." Stephen slurs softly. Happy now he's being held, content.

"What time do you have to get up?" Antony asks, checking further.

"6.30... gotta be out of here for 7..."

Better. "Okay. Is your alarm set?"

"Think so," Stephen frowns, irritated at the twenty questions when all he wants to do is sleep.

"Stephen? You'd better check or have me set mine," Antony points out, even though he knows he's annoying his boy.

There's hesitation, then a pout, and then Stephen reluctantly rolls away to fumble for his phone on the bedside table. He peers at it as he thumbs through the process of setting up an alarm, he presents it to Antony for his lover to check over.

"Good." Antony hands the phone back and pulls Stephen in once it's set on the nightstand. "I'll get up with you."

"Make me breakfast?" Stephen murmurs as he busies himself in getting as comfortable as he was. Comfortable meaning, with as much skin as possible pressed against Antony and his face pressed into chest hair.

"Blueberry waffles?" Antony offers, kissing the top of Stephen's head.

"Hmm and protein," Stephen adds. Then a pause. "I love you Sir."

"I love you too," Antony murmurs with another kiss, his face kept pressed to Stephen's hair for a moment before he turns off the light.


End file.
